


Dear Santa

by DevonShea



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst and Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevonShea/pseuds/DevonShea
Summary: Arthur has to work with Merlin unexpectedly.  It's much too easy to fall in love with him, but it takes an unexpected Christmas matchmaker to get him to make a move.





	1. February

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Detochkina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detochkina/gifts).



> Many thanks to Fifty_Fifty for beta-ing and Brit-picking (even if I did leave a bunch of Americanisms in the story because I wanted to).
> 
> And thanks to the mods for organizing this and not murdering me for running late! 
> 
> Detochkina, I hope you like this. :)

Part 1: February

 

Dear Santa,

I want a dragon for Christmas.  

Love,

Merlin Ambrose, age 6

 

***

 

Generally Arthur thought his sister had a good brain in her head.  Morgana was a well-put-together woman who had the splendid taste to marry his oldest friend.  She was quite brilliant when it came to coming up with fresh marketing schemes for Pendragon’s.  However, every once in a while she made a decision that baffled Arthur. After all, he still had photographic evidence of his sister’s emo-goth-whatever phase for future blackmail purposes.

 

This time he thought she’d just lost her marbles.  Arthur tapped his pen against his notepad as he vaguely listened to Merlin, her choice for head of the Christmas Grotto, go on about tinsel and decorations.  Arthur was used to thinking a few seasons to a full year ahead; he worked retail, after all. But he had never been able to muster up this level of enthusiasm for Christmas, even during the few weeks he actually had decorations up in his flat.  Merlin seemed to actually be looking forward to seeing the Grotto built.

 

The meeting wrapped up with almost all of Merlin’s ideas being approved.  Honestly, Arthur didn’t care what it looked like so long as it came in within budget and drove the sales figures sky high.  He closed his notebook and stood so he could get back to his office. He had mountains of product catalogs to go through to decide what they’d actually be selling in the store itself for Christmas.  As he did Merlin tripped over thin air and plowed right into him, knocking both of them onto the floor next to the long table.

 

“Ow.”  Merlin’s voice was dazed as he reached up to rub his head.  He must have hit it on the corner of the table as he fell.

 

Arthur shoved him off and sat up.  “Are you going to live, idiot?”

 

“I think so?”  He grimaced and sat up himself.  “Sorry about that. I recently got new contacts and I’m still getting used to the prescription.”

 

Arthur looked into Merlin’s eyes.  Blue, he thought, was insufficient to describe them.  He found himself tongue-tied as he and Merlin just stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment.  Morgana’s loud throat-clearing brought his attention back to the present. He felt his face flame as he hemmed and scrambled off the floor.  “Well, yes, I hope you get used to them soon. Can’t have you tripping all over everyone.”

 

Merlin blinked as he looked at the hand Arthur had extended to help him up, “Yeah.  Well, anyway.”

 

“Are you two finished?”  Morgana stood with her arms crossed, grinning at the two men.  “Some of us need to get back to work and you’re standing in front of the door.”

 

Merlin grimaced as he grabbed Arthur’s hand and let himself be pulled up.  “Sorry, M.”

 

“Did you just call her ‘M’?  She’s not Dame Judi Dench, she’s your boss.”  

 

Merlin grinned as his eyes flicked between Arthur and Morgana, “Seriously, can’t you see her as being in charge of an entire spy division?”

 

Morgana chuckled as she pushed past the two men.  “And this is why I hired you, Merlin.”

 

“Because he sees you as the head spook in some fictional movie?”

 

Morgana shook her head, “No, because he has a wonderful imagination and it’s exactly what we need to liven up the boring old Grotto.  It was getting stale and was just like everyone else’s Grotto. If we want to compete with Harrod’s and such, we need to freshen things up.  The economy is too fraught right now to play things totally safe.”

 

Arthur shrugged, “Whatever, ‘Gana.  I have work to do. The Grotto won’t be worth much if we have nothing to sell for Christmas, would it?”

 

“No, it wouldn’t.  But maybe Merlin and I could get to our own jobs if you would let his hand go.”  

 

Both men looked down at their still-clasped hands and let go of each other as if burned.  Neither had realized they hadn’t let go of each other after Arthur had hauled Merlin off the floor.  Arthur watched Merlin’s face flush. He briefly wondered if the flush went further down the man’s chest.  

 

Morgana curled her arm around Merlin’s and started dragging him out of the conference room.  “Bye, Arthur. See you for dinner tonight at the house.”

 

Morgana and Merlin left the room before Arthur had time to gather all of his thoughts.  She had just reminded him that he had been ‘cordially invited to supper’, which translated, meant that his father had demanded that he appear at his house and eat.  Arthur had managed to beg off the last family dinner by using the very real excuse of a delivery strike, but he knew that he could only use work as an excuse so many times before it wouldn’t work anymore.  After all, if the CEO of the company could find the time off to have dinner with his children, then those children could damn well trouble themselves to find the time off, as well.

 

***

 

Dinner at his father’s house was always a little stressful.  When Arthur had been very young he had idolized his father. Uther Pendragon had founded a very successful department store at a young age.  Granted, he had begun with a trust fund that gave him room to play with, but he could easily have just wasted that money on wine, women, and song.  Instead, he had gone into business and opened a store that grew over the years.

 

Uther met a lovely young woman and married her, losing Ygraine and his stillborn son to childbirth only five years after Arthur was born.  While he grieved and still ran his store, he raised his surviving son. Uther’s good friends died in a car crash when Arthur was only eight, and their daughters, Morgause and Morgana, came to live with them.  Arthur gained two older sisters overnight. It had certainly required an adjustment, but they managed. Morgana was only a few months older than Arthur, so they had managed to become quite close before their world came down on them like a house of cards.

 

Morgause became very sick.  The doctors hoped that Morgana would be able to donate marrow, but when the matching tests were done, it turned out she had a different blood type than her sister.  In fact, when all the tests were done on the family, it was revealed that she had the same relatively rare type that Arthur and Uther had.

 

One day, when Arthur was already reeling over the fact that he might lose his foster sister, he woke up to find out that he had an actual sister.  The house was much colder that year before the family managed to both treat Morgause’s illness and come to terms with the fact that their parents had an affair.

 

Uther and Morgana’s relationship had its ups and downs.  Uther and Morgause’s relationship had even settled into a mutual affection.  Arthur had been shaken to the core. All he’d heard during his first ten years was just how much Uther had loved Ygraine.  That she was the love of his life. He’d never thought that there might have been problems with their marriage. Problems that had seen Uther seeking comfort in the arms of his best friend’s wife.  It was hard to reconcile the two realities and had taken a long time for Arthur to forgive his father. Sometimes he wondered if he actually had forgiven him completely.

 

***

 

Somehow Uther managed to wrangle all three of his children into this family dinner, which meant that Morgause must be between photo shoots.  She gave Arthur a rib-cracking hug even before he managed to get his coat off. “Arthur, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

 

He returned the hug, a bit gentler, because no matter how long it had been, they were still all a bit gentler with her.  “How was Paris?”

 

Morgause grinned.  “That was three shoots ago.  Don’t you follow me on Instagram?”

 

“Seriously?”  Arthur hung his coat and scarf in the closet before he turned back to her.  “You expect me to keep up on social media? That’s what I keep ‘Gana around for.”  He slung his arm over her shoulder as they walked into the living room.

 

Uther could have gotten a larger house, a mansion even, as profits from Pendragon’s really started rolling in, but he’d decided the house he and Ygraine had built, with just enough room for himself and three children was sufficient and would also give them a more grounded childhood.  Especially after Morgause’s illness, it was part of what had bound them together as a family.

 

“Ah, you made it.  I thought you might beg off or something.”  Morgana’s husband, and Arthur’s oldest and best friend, Leon grinned at Arthur as the two of the entered.  

 

“Wanted to.  Father was on a tear about something earlier and I really don’t want to think about work right now.”  Arthur accepted the glass of wine Leon held out to him as Morgause ducked out from under his arm and joined Morgana on the couch.

 

Leon shrugged.  He had managed to avoid working at Pendragon’s, even though Uther had tried to recruit him after he finished law school.  Instead, he worked for Legal Aid, helping people get the representation they needed but couldn’t afford. It didn’t pay well, but Morgana’s salary was more than adequate to keep the family comfortable, and the two were both happy in their work.  “Don’t know what he was on about. He hasn’t brought it up since I got here, but I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“Did he ask whether you were done with your do-gooding yet?”

 

“Only once,” Leon chuckled.  “Your sisters both shut him down at the same time.  You’d think he’d learn by now not to say anything around them.”

 

Arthur grinned.  “My father? Give up on something?  He’s like a dog with a bone.” He looked around.  “Where is he, anyway?”

 

“Ah, he said something about checking on dinner.”

 

Arthur choked on his wine.  “Wait? Did he cook?”

 

Leon smirked.  “I think so.”

 

“Oh, god, we’re all going to die from food poisoning.  There’s a reason Father has a housekeeper.”

 

“And what would that be, son?”

 

Arthur winced as he turned around.  Might as well just be truthful. “Because you can’t cook, Father.”

 

Uther’s glare was as strong as it had been the day Arthur and Leon swiped his car keys and took his car out for a ride when they were only fifteen.  “I’ll thank you to not think I’m incompetent.”

 

“Of course not.  I just mean you never had to learn how, so-  So, I’ll just shut up now.” Arthur took a sip of wine to occupy his mouth before he managed to find himself fired, or worse, forced to sit near his Uncle Agravaine at the next company function.

 

“Wise decision, son.”  Uther looked at the others in the room.  “Since Arthur finally deigned to grace us with his presence, we can eat now.  The food is ready.”

 

***

 

Dinner was surprisingly good.  When Morgana had asked their father where he had picked up the recipe, the truth came out.  Uther had been taking private cooking classes recently. “None of you are in the house anymore to ferry from function to function.  I wanted to be able to do something with my free time other than sit at the office. Besides, it’s actually rather enjoyable.”

 

Arthur usually timed his exit after family dinners carefully.  By the time Uther started talking about the store, Arthur knew he was only about half an hour away from him mentioning grandchildren to carry on the Pendragon legacy.  Uther had never quite accepted the fact that Arthur was about as likely to give him grandchildren as the family cat, so his slightly disappointed gaze became uncomfortable around then.

 

Before Uther could wind up to that point this time, and Arthur was reviewing what he’d say to get the hell out of Dodge, Morgana grinned and took Leon’s hand.  “Leon and I have a small gift for you, Father.” She leaned over into the large purse she’d left on the floor near the couch and pulled out a flat rectangle. “I noticed your parking sign at work was getting worn out, so we got you a new one.”

 

“Yes, well.”  Uther looked a bit confused as he accepted the gift.  “Thank you, Morgana. You didn’t have to wrap it. You could have just-”

 

She interrupted him, “Just open it, Father.”

 

Uther sighed as he realized it wouldn’t just say ‘Uther Pendragon, CEO’.  “You and your jokes, Morgana.” He tore the top of the paper open and slipped out the sign, reading it as he pulled it out, “Best grand-”  Uther stopped reading and just stared at the sign for a moment before he looked up at his daughter, tears in his eyes. “Best granddad ever parking only.”  He cleared his throat. “You’re pregnant?”

 

Arthur was surprised to feel tears in his own eyes.  He was going to be an uncle! Morgause, who’d been sitting with her legs slung over his on the loveseat squealed and threw herself off the seat.  She bounded over to Morgana and had her wrapped in a hug before Arthur could gather his wits.

 

Uther stood and hugged both of his daughters, wiping the tears from under his eyes unrepentantly.  He turned to Leon and shook his hand for a brief moment before he pulled him into a tight hug, too.  Arthur had his turn hugging his sister and best friend, thrilled for them, and strangely, feeling the tiniest twinge of sorrow.

 

It wasn’t until he was on his way home that he let himself think about why he was the remotest bit sad about Morgana having a baby.  He was genuinely happy for her. He knew she and Leon had been trying to get pregnant for the last year. He couldn’t wait to be an uncle.  As he drove through the night he realized he hadn’t let himself think about children after he realized he was gay.

 

Unless he found someone who was willing to adopt or found an egg donor and a surrogate, Arthur was never going to have children.  During all of his father’s soliloquies about being a grandfather, Arthur hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that that was one thing, maybe the only thing, he regretted about his sexuality.  He was happy. Truly, he was. He just hadn’t really been confronted with the fact that he wouldn’t have a child before. At least, not in any tangible way.

 

Arthur shook his head as he opened his door.  There was nothing he could do about it. Unless his Mr. Right wanted kids, too, Arthur would be Uncle Arthur forever.  He would just make sure he was the best damn uncle Morgana’s and Morgause’s kids ever knew. Of course, since Morgana and Morgause only had one brother, he would also be their only uncle, but that was beside the point.


	2. July

Part 2 - July

 

Dear Santa,

I really liked the stuffed dragon you gave me last year, but can I have a real one this time?  I named him Killy, by the way.

Happy Christmas,

Merlin Ambrose, age 7

 

***

 

Babies had the worst timing.  Arthur knew that any child of Morgana’s was going to be stubborn and do its level best to drive its Uncle Arthur insane, but he had hoped that Leon’s steadying effect might temper that.  Apparently not. Oh, it wasn’t necessarily the baby’s fault it decided to come early. No, Arthur was going to put part of the blame for that on Merlin.

 

An emergency meeting had been called because somehow Merlin the Incompetent had managed to lose his assistant only three and a half months before Pendragon's Santa Grotto was to open, and he'd taken the complete plans with him.  Cedric had been a good find according to both Merlin and Morgana, quite a skilled interior designer. Apparently, his skills didn’t include job loyalty, though, and he had given them precisely no notice when he’d been lured away by Cenred Wessex's store to design their very first Santa Grotto.

 

“And you’re positive he’s going to use the designs we’ve come up with?”  Uther’s voice was controlled and tight, indicating he was about ten seconds from going medieval on poor Merlin.

 

“Yes, sir.”  Merlin grimaced.  “He had copies at home to work on, just like I do.”

 

Arthur spoke up, “Can we use legal means to prevent this?”

 

Uther frowned.  “Possibly, but by the time the courts have their way with it, Christmas will be over and we’ll have expended a ridiculous amount of money on it.  And we’ll still have an identical grotto to Wessex.” Uther shook his head. “I’ll talk to your uncle about this. Maybe he can suggest something.  In the meantime, Morgana, Ambrose, is there something different we can do, change it somehow?”

 

Merlin and Morgana looked at each other.  “It’ll be pricey. We had so much ordered already and there’s so little time.”  Morgana frowned. “But there were other ideas that Merlin floated that would be really good.”  She grimaced and sucked in a breath.

 

“Morgana?”  Arthur put his hand on her forearm.  “You okay?”

 

She put her hand over her belly.  “This feels different from when she’s practicing her football skills.”  She sucked in another breath as the pressure on her abdomen shifted. “Okay.  This is not Braxton-Hicks.”

 

“I’m calling Leon.”  Arthur pulled his phone out of his pocket and started dialing his friend.

 

Merlin pulled out his own phone.  “I’ll call my uncle Gaius. He’s a doctor.  He’ll probably tell us to bring her to the- Oh, hi, Uncle Gaius.”  

 

Before either man had gotten off their phones, Uther had Morgana up and was moving toward the door with her.  “You’re both idiots. Just tell Leon to get to the hospital, Arthur. That’s where she’s going.”

 

***

 

A day later, Merlin popped into Morgana’s room.  Arthur was already sitting by her bedside, holding his niece, Audrey.  “Well, M, your kid is nearly as dramatic as you are. She didn’t even want to wait the full nine months before she got started, did she?”

 

Morgana laughed at the cheeky greeting as she accepted the flowers and the huge stuffed dragon Merlin offered her.  “Poor Leon has two of us now.”

 

“I think he’ll manage.  Hello, Arthur.” Merlin reached out and ran his finger over the crocheted hat on the baby’s head.  “Oh, she’s beautiful, M.”

 

“Thank you, Merlin.  If you can pry her from Uncle Arthur’s arms, he might let you hold her.”

 

Arthur glared at his sister and sighed, “I guess he can.  You drop my niece, Merlin, and I’ll kill you.”

 

Merlin just laughed.  “I love babies. I’ve never dropped one in my life.”  He held his arms out and accepted the dozing bundle before he held her close to his chest.  Audrey opened her eyes a tiny bit, the transfer having woken her up just enough that she was grumpy.  “Oh, sweetheart. You are going to be a joy for your parents, aren’t you? And look at that glare. You’re already taking after your uncle, you poor thing.”

 

Arthur snorted.  “Watch it, Ambrose.  You’re going to be working with me more often now, you know.”

 

“What?”  Merlin looked up from the baby and met Arthur’s purposefully bland expression.  “What are you talking about?”

 

“He’s talking about the Grotto.  Father wants you two working closely together to pull it off while I’m on maternity leave, which started a day ago, thank to the little miss there.”  Morgana smirked as Merlin groaned.

 

“Morgana, I don’t need a baby-sitter to take care of the Grotto.”

 

Arthur grinned, “Maybe not, but there needs to be some oversight now that the budget is going to go up thanks to that ass, Cedric.”  He enjoyed the look of dismay on Merlin’s beautiful face. This was going to be fun and torture combined into one long experience. Merlin was exactly what Arthur craved in a man.  Good looks, brains, and a clever sense of humor, all rolled into one. It was just too bad he was one of Morgana’s subordinates. That meant Merlin was most definitely, regrettably, off-limits, in Arthur’s book.  


	3. August

Part 3: August

 

Dear Santa, 

I know your letter said that I have to be older before I can prove that I can get a real dragon, but you forgot to say how old I have to be.  I named the little white dragon you gave me last year Aithusa. I still want a dragon. 

Happy Christmas,

Merlin Ambrose, age 8

 

***

 

Two weeks later, Arthur sighed as he looked at all of the drawings on the table in the conference room.  “These are gorgeous, Merlin.”

 

“But?”

 

“But they’re bland.  Normal. Just like every other Grotto.  Lots of fake snow, candy canes, etc.” This was one of the reasons Arthur hated dealing with the Grotto.  No matter what the theme, they all looked the same to him. Every store always had the same things.

 

Merlin sat next to him at the large table they’d spread all of the plans across.  He groaned. “Tell me something I don’t already know. This is going to be terrible and I’m going to be sacked.  I really liked our original plans.” Merlin thunked his head on the table in front of him.

 

Arthur chuckled.  “You won’t be sacked.  It wasn’t your fault Cenred and Cedric are both jerks.”  He reached over and patted Merlin on the shoulder. “We just have to come up with something unique to Pendragon’s that will be a draw.”  He picked up the drawing with the vaguely fairytale-ish cottage and traced its lines.

 

Merlin looked up.  “Mate, don’t take offense at this, but Pendragon’s is a department store just like all the others.  The only thing unique about it is that it has the coolest-” Merlin stopped speaking as his eyes widened.  “Stay right here!” He scrambled out of his chair, rushing past Arthur’s assistant on his way. “Sorry, George!” he called back.  The tea tray in George’s hands rattled and dipped, but didn’t actually fall.

 

“What the-?”  George looked at his boss questioningly.

 

Arthur raised his hands, still holding the drawing.  “I have no idea what’s going on in that idiot’s head, George.  If anything actually does.”

 

By the time Merlin returned at a lope, George had set out a cup of tea for him, disgustingly loaded to the brim with sugar and milk.  Arthur sipped his proper tea as he made notes about the different elements he liked from each of the drawings in front of him. He eyed Merlin as the man set a sketchbook in front of him.  Merlin’s cheeks were flushed from his run through the offices, and he had a grin from ear to ear.

 

Arthur felt his heart pound just a little more at the sight of that smile.  It was lethal. Sweet, mischievous, and full of joy, all at the same time. How did the man even do that?   _Every_ smile he wore should be declared illegal and banned from public view.  But then, Arthur would be deprived of them, too, and that would be the true crime.  After two weeks of working with Merlin, he was starting to get addicted to those smiles.  Even the frowns.

 

He didn’t say anything to Merlin as the man opened the sketchbook, just enjoyed the closeness of him as he leaned over Arthur’s shoulder.  What was that soap that Merlin used? There was the slightest smell of something that reminded Arthur of one of the few memories he had of his mother, of going to midnight Mass with her on Christmas Eve.  What was in the incense? Frankincense? Myrrh? Something like that. Whatever it was, it was bringing back a happy feeling. It almost hurt to be dragged out of it by Merlin speaking.

 

“You want something unique, Arthur?  It’s in your name.” Merlin had opened his sketchbook while Arthur’s mind wandered and was happily pointing to a drawing of a dragon.  It wasn’t a realistic dragon. It was an adorable, chubby-cheeked, cartoon dragonet that Merlin had labeled ‘Audrey’.

 

He looked up at Merlin, not comprehending what dragons had to do with Christmas.  Yes, the logo for the store had a dragon on it, but the logo also had a pen in it to form a rebus.

 

“The dragon, Arthur.  What other store would have dragons at their Grotto?”  Merlin grabbed the pen from Arthur’s hand, slid the sketchbook over and flipped a few pages until he found an empty one.  Arthur thought he flipped past a page with his face on it, but it happened too fast for him to be sure. Merlin started sketching as he talked.  “So, we have Santa in his chair, and a sleeping dragon at his feet. I know a guy who could build a really good one for us pretty quickly. Perce could make it plush or hard, but plush and cute might be better so kids could hug it.  And we have helper elves, of course, but we also have other fairy tale creatures in the background. I mean, the elves in the Santa stories are more likely based on brownies, anyway.”

 

Merlin wasn’t looking at Arthur, totally absorbed in his work.  Arthur hadn’t said a word the whole time, watching Merlin’s face as he drew.  His face had an intense look on it, and his eyes sparkled. It was almost intimate.  Arthur pulled himself back from imagining Merlin poised over him in bed with that expression.  He took in a deep breath and mentally shook himself back into the workplace.

 

“Won’t dragons scare children, Merlin?”

 

Merlin made a scoffing sound.  “You don’t know many kids, do you, Arthur?”  He shook his head. “Not much scares them these days, especially if we make the dragon more cartoony than realistic.”  He finished his sketch with a flourish and pushed it back in front of Arthur.

 

Before him was what looked like a snow-covered enchanted grotto, with Santa holding court over an array of fairy creatures, a sleepy dragon spewing a tiny plume of smoke curled around the throne.  The drawing was quick and dirty, done with a cheap, blue, ball-point pen, but Arthur could feel the magic in it. “Merlin. I-” He expelled a breath and shook his head.

 

“Bad idea?”  

 

“No!  On the contrary, this is amazing.”  Arthur looked up at Merlin, not missing the way his teeth worried the side of his lip in his nervousness.  “Can you pull it off? Within a reasonable budget?”

 

Merlin smiled slowly.  “I think so. Like I said, I know a guy who could make the dragon.  That would really be the most expensive part of the whole thing. The rest is mosty just refurbishing what we already have.”  Merlin sat down and started pointing out elements of the design they had in storage that would just need a new coat of paint or other minor changes.  A few minutes later he smiled. “I always asked Santa for a dragon for Christmas, you know. Now I get to make one part of a display. That’s pretty cool.”

 

Arthur grinned.  He’d always had a thing for dragons himself as a consequence of his last name.

  
About an hour later, George came in to remind Arthur he had a meeting.  The two men had hashed out what would be included and what was to be excluded.  (“No, _Mer_ lin, we don’t have the time or space for a full panto.”)  Merlin agreed he would go off and work up the actual plans after the meeting was over.  His sketchbook had been put away in the briefcase he’d brought to the meeting and the new sketches were worked up on the backs of the rejected plans.  Arthur had halfway hoped Merlin would forget the sketchbook and he’d get a chance to look through it to find out if he actually had seen his own face.


	4. December

Part 4: December

 

Dear Santa, 

According to Will, you’re not real, but Mum is insisting I write a letter to you anyway.  I still want my dragon, I guess, but I’d let you take back all of my dragons if I could just have my Da back. 

Sincerely,

Merlin Ambrose, age 9

 

***

 

The Pendragon Christmas party was always a big hit with the children of the company.  It had been a family Christmas party ever since Uther started hosting it. The best part about it where all of the children were concerned was that Santa gave out a special gift to each of the kids.  “Somehow” he always knew what they wanted. Even the older kids were happy to go along with the ‘magic’, keeping their younger siblings true believers in the spirit of Santa Claus.

 

This year, everything was running along like a well-oiled machine.  The food was on its way; the presents had been purchased and wrapped, with the child’s name carefully written on it so there was no confusion when Santa was handed the present to give to each child.  Of course, that’s when disaster struck.

 

Arthur walked into his office to hear the normally unflappable George squawking into the phone, “What do you mean he can’t come?!  Do you have any idea how hard-” George looked at the phone witheringly, as if the person on the other end could actually see him. “It’ll be nearly impossible to find a Santa now.”  

 

Arthur lifted his brows at George, who just pressed his lips together in a thin line and shook his head tightly.  “Fine. Yes, I understand.” He sighed. “Yes, yes, Happy Christmas to you, too.” He put the phone back in its cradle and let out a groan.  “I suppose you heard enough to get the idea?”

 

“No Santa for the party?”

 

“No, sir.  The one the agency was going to send us appears to have gotten some sort of flu.  All their others are fully-booked.” George actually looked stressed. Arthur couldn’t really remember the last time he’d seen that.  

 

“Well, we’ll have to find a replacement.  Have any jolly, fat friends interested in making a couple of quid?”  

 

George turned his withering gaze on his employer.  It was all Arthur could do not to laugh. He didn’t manage to get that look often so it was worth it whenever it happened.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

“Good man, George.  I have faith in you.  After all, the party is tomorrow and we wouldn’t want to disappoint all the little kids, right?”  Arthur managed to get by his assistant and closed the door before George managed to get past the thought of murder and actually commit one.  

 

When he sat down at his desk, he groaned himself.  Of course this would happen. He pulled out his phone and texted Merlin with the news.

 

He wasn’t going to tell his father yet.  Uther loved the Christmas party. It was his baby.  He usually organized it himself, but he’d been spending every free moment he had with the actual baby of the family lately, so Arthur had volunteered to organize it.  On top of getting the Grotto ready and his normal duties.

 

His phone dinged.  He read the text and chuckled.  ‘SRSLY?!!!!’ Merlin simply couldn’t text in full words.  It was quite ridiculous.

 

‘Yes, seriously.  (Note the spelling, Merlin.)’

 

‘Kiss my beautiful Welsh arse.  (Note the spelling, Arthur.)’

‘??’

 

Arthur shook his head and gave up.  He dialed Merlin’s number and grinned when the man picked up immediately.  “You are a disaster. How did you ever get a degree when you can’t even write like a normal adult?”

 

_“There’s writing and there’s texting.  Besides, my degree is in Fine Arts, not English.  What the hell happened?”_

 

“Apparently, Santa got the flu and the agency doesn’t have anyone else.  George is trying to find a replacement now.” Arthur leaned back in his chair.  Yes, things were going to shit, but this year was one of their best years yet, even in an uncertain economy.  The Grotto had been such a hit that they were probably going to use a dragon every year from now on. And Arthur had realized that as much as he had fallen head over heels for the skinny man on the other end of the phone, he had gained a true friend over the last few months.

 

_“Poor George.”_

 

“Yeah, I asked him if he had any jolly, fat friends.  I think he would have murdered me if I hadn’t gotten into my office right away.”  Arthur chuckled. “You may want to bring me my lunch later. I don’t think I should leave until he’s gone.”

 

Merlin snorted over the phone.  “ _If it were up to me, I’d help him.  Seriously, Arthur, what are you going to do?  I’m sure Santas have been booked for months for Christmas.”_

 

Arthur nodded as if Merlin could see him as he picked up one of the reports George had printed out and left on his desk before he’d gotten the call about the Santa cancelling.  “I know. I guess we’ll just have to get someone to wear a wig and suit if we can’t find a fat, bearded fellow.”

 

_“Your father’s going to hate that.  You told me yourself he insisted you get someone who has a beard the kids could pull and it wouldn’t move.”_

 

“Well, Merlin, we may not have a choice.”  Arthur shrugged. “I’ll see what happens when George finishes making his calls.”  They spoke for a few more minutes before Arthur hung up and got to work. The holiday season may nearly be over, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other seasons to prep for.  Arthur was looking through one of the fall catalogs for next year when George knocked on the door.

 

“Mr. Pendragon.”

 

“George.”

 

George looked ready to cry.  “I’m sorry to say my efforts at finding another authentic Santa have come to naught.  They’re all booked. Every agency.”

 

“Can’t we just get the Santa who we’re _already_ paying to work in the Grotto to do it?”

 

George shook his head.  “It’s apparently against union rules.  Something about it being an outside gig because it isn’t in the contract.”  He shrugged helplessly. “Next year, I’ll make sure Morgana’s people include that, sir.”

 

“Alright, so we’ll have to get a costume and a wig for someone in the company to wear.  Wait. What about Geoffrey? He’s a bit rotund, _and_ he has a beard.  We could ask him to wear the suit.”  Arthur felt pretty proud of thinking of the accountant who’d trained him.

 

George looked a bit skeptical.  “Sir, he hates children.”

 

“No one hates children, George.”

 

George lifted his brow.  “Geoffrey does. I was there when he told your father not to show him any pictures of Audrey because he couldn’t care less,” George snickered.  “Thankfully, Geoffrey has been here since the store opened, so your father just slapped him on the back and laughed, but Geoffrey meant it. If we put him in the suit, he’ll send all the children home crying hysterically.”

 

“Ah.”  Arthur grimaced and nodded.  “Probably better not to ask him, then.  Who else in the company could we ask?”

 

“There’s also the fact that asking all the men who are, shall we say, a bit overweight, could probably get us in trouble.  Discrimination, you know.”

 

“Oh, for the love of-”  Arthur frowned. “This is ridiculous.  Maybe we should just circulate a memo asking for a volunteer.”

 

George nodded.  “I’ll get right on it.”  

 

“And, George, for the love of God, don’t cc my father on it.  He’ll kill us.”

 

***

 

By lunch the next day, there were still no volunteers.  Arthur had the costume box in his office. The party started in five hours.  “George, please tell me you found one person willing to spread a little joy and happiness to a bunch of children.”

 

“I’m sorry, sir.  No one.” George had the lunch Arthur had ordered for himself and Merlin in his hands.  “I’m still trying.”

 

Merlin chuckled.  “I would do it, but the amount of padding we’d have to add is ridiculous.  Although, we do sell body pillows. Maybe we could wrap one of those around me.”

 

“You’d look like a stick in a donut, not a jolly, old man.”  Arthur shook his head. “We’ll give it a bit more time, then figure something out.  Thanks, George.”

 

George had his hand on the door when he paused.  “Sir, I can think of one person who would be good at it.  He would need some padding around the middle, though.”

 

“Finally!  Who, George?  I’ll call him immediately.”

 

George turned around, his eyes twinkling a bit.  “You, sir. You like children and you have the shoulders to fill out the costume, even if you don’t have the belly.”

 

Arthur’s mind stopped.  His mouth dropped and he stammered for a moment.  “George, my father is expecting me-”

 

“To do whatever you can to make his party a success, sir.  I think even Uther Pendragon would forgive a bewigged Santa if it was his son who had stepped up and donned the costume.  He trusts you to do what’s best for Pendragon’s.”

 

Arthur turned a little when he heard a snort from Merlin, who had his hand covering his obvious smile.  “Come on, Arthur. You’d have fun doing it. You know you would. George is right, you like the little ankle-biters.”

 

“And this way you’d know it was done right, sir.  That is always important to you.”

 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at his assistant.  “Have you been taking lessons in manipulating me from Morgana, George?”

 

George grinned.  “Never, sir. I just feel you could do it.”

 

***

 

Five hours later, Arthur found himself tugging on a beard that had been attached with theater glue to make sure it would hold up against a determined pull.  “You’re sure this will hold?”

 

“Relax, Arthur.  Remember all of those theater shoots I’ve done?  Well, I know my way around a backstage.” Morgause grinned at her younger brother.  “You look splendid. Now get your padding on.” She held out the coat he’d put on over the padded tee and helped him into it.  The wig and hat went on after that.

 

“I feel silly.”  Arthur looked in the mirror of the men’s bathroom his sister had commandeered.

 

“You don’t look silly.  You look like Father Christmas, ready to spread joy and cheer to all the good little girls and boys.”  She rested her head on his shoulder as he looked at their reflection. “Proud of you, Arthur.”

 

“Thanks, Morgause.  And thank you for making me look like a fat, old man.”

 

***

 

Arthur as Santa was a hit with the children.  He knew enough about many of the employees’ children that he’d been able to anticipate many of their names, impressing them even more that Santa was real and magical.  He enjoyed himself more than he thought possible.

 

The best moment of the night, though, came when Morgana laid his niece in his arms.  Audrey was only five months old, but she grabbed his beard and tugged harder than any of the other kids had.  She grinned up at him and Arthur was sure she recognized him.

 

He looked up at Leon and Morgana and whispered, “Maybe I’ll just take this one home with me.  I could always use another elf in the workshop.”

 

Morgana smirked, “Go right ahead.  Then her father and I can have sex without her crying and stopping us.”

 

“Ugh!  Morgana!”  Arthur looked down at his niece, ignoring her parents laughing at his discomfort.  “Ignore everything they say growing up, Audrey. Come to your Uncle Arthur for any questions, comments, concerns, etc.  Got it?”

 

***

 

All of the children had been spoken to and it was time for Santa to be off.  The costume was itchy and hot and as much fun as Arthur had, he was going to jump in the tiny shower in the mens’ washroom on the top floor as soon as he got the beard off.  He stood up and realized he’d been sitting on a hard chair for almost two hours and his legs were a bit rubbery. Merlin was standing next to him before he realized it, subtly giving him an arm to lean on.

 

Arthur waved to all of the children and did everything he could to walk slowly, but surely, out of the Grotto they’d closed down early for the employee party.  Once they got clear of sight, Arthur sagged against the wall. “I have more respect for that Santa we hire every year. My legs feel like jelly.”

 

Merlin laughed.  “They get up every half hour or so to walk around.  We forgot to tell you to do that. Sorry. M realized it too late to do anything about it, so George volunteered me to be your escort out of there.”

 

Arthur clapped his hand on Merlin’s shoulder.  “Well, thank you. Now help me get up to the washroom so I can get this beard and costume off.”  He pulled the coat open. “I feel way too hot and sticky right now.”

 

Merlin’s eyes dropped to the floor as he pulled his lip in between his teeth.  He took a deep breath and looked back up, smiling widely, but not quite meeting Arthur’s eyes.  “Yeah, let’s get you up there, then.”

 

Arthur slid his hand down Merlin’s arm, watching his face carefully.  Yes, there was a definite flush. Instead of stopping at Merlin’s forearm, he let his hand fall further down, until it was touching Merlin’s own hand.  He slowly wrapped his fingers around until their hands were touching palm to palm. Merlin’s breath caught and he lifted his eyes, staring straight into Arthur’s soul as he curled his fingers in between Arthur’s.

 

Arthur smiled slowly and tugged Merlin closer.  He was leaning into the other man when Merlin pulled back and grinned.  “I am not having my first kiss with you be while you’re wearing a full, itchy beard.  No way, Arthur.”

 

Arthur grinned back.  “Then let’s get rid of it, so I can find some mistletoe or something and snog you senseless.”


	5. Christmas Day

Part 5: Christmas Day

 

Dear Santa, 

Thank you for my dragon.  I promise I’ll take good care of him. 

Sincerely,

Merlin Ambrose, age 29

 

***

 

“Merlin, what are you doing up already.  Come back to bed.”

 

“I’m writing a thank you letter to Santa.”

 

Arthur chuckled as he pressed a kiss on the top of Merlin’s head.  “You’re a nutter.”

 

Merlin tilted his head back and accepted another kiss, this time on the lips.  “But he gave me what I really wanted for Christmas. I finally got my dragon.”

 

Arthur looked at the paper on the table as he shook his head slightly.  His smile widened as he read it. He pulled the pen out of Merlin’s hand and dropped it onto the table.  “Come on, Merlin. We don’t have to be at your mother’s for almost twelve hours. I want to play with my present a little more before we go.”

 

Merlin grinned and nudged Arthur out of the way so he could slip out of the chair and stand, sliding his arms around Arthur’s waist so he could rest his head on his broad shoulder.

 

***

 

PS:

Dear Santa, 

I promise I’ll take good care of Merlin, too.  Thank you. 

Sincerely,

Arthur Pendragon, age 32


End file.
